Shall we speak of the soft mouth, fine hair and eyes that don’t disclose?
Of the veiled wife and two children, known as ‘Abs’ and failing to qualify for TfL,
You for London – who’s having a laugh?
Of men only barbecues, bonding at the gym, and following the Arsenal.
Did you tear up when they won the Cup, or was it Sweet FA?
Hadn’t yet hired the van
Payment fails on the seven tonne truck
perhaps too far down the line by then.
Why mention that earlier life of fraud, fried chicken shops and no outlet for a free spirit,
Supposing that was you? What is there to speak of but your dumb savagery?
Eight minutes of inhumanity that drains your growing up of all significance.
But even butchers’ knives are sharpened on something beyond their ken
Pink ceramic 12 inch, home-made strap to wrap it on your wrist
What whetted yours, I wonder. To be heartless you must have lost heart – how?
The question’s not out of sympathy – too late for you and too early
The city’s wounds still raw, you’ll be lucky to receive a decent burial
The point is there are others who might flip the lid as you did
Unless we show we know them, better than they know themselves.